Silent Noise, Loud Days
by twilley
Summary: Everything seemed to have evolved to a new stage of hypersensitive. Set in kyunyo's 2P universe. KidxCon AU.


Set in kyunyo's 2P universe – in the future where Conan can't turn back into Shinichi and Kid has to continue stealing. And they live together. Gift fic to kyunyo and califlair for dragging me and keeping me out from the anon and for putting up with my stupid cracky self.

**Warnings:** Yaoi/slash, implications of death, somewhat dark imagery, mild language from Conan

* * *

Sometimes Conan felt like he had gotten the short end of the stick. Pun unintended, regardless of what Hattori might have to say.

Perhaps it was from the ingrained paranoia he'd accepted grudgingly since his forced incognito after _that_ night- or maybe a side effect from the Apotoxin besides shrinking him into a economical size- but ever since his encounter with the Black Organisation, nothing seemed to escape his attention. Even though he'd been called super-Holmes-freakishly observant before (as kindly supplied by Sonoko), when Conan came to be, everything seemed to have evolved to a new stage of hypersensitive.

Movements were automatically catalogued, sequenced and rationalised, down to the number of times Mouri had clipped his toe nails this year and the precise length of each nail- the record longest being 0.8 millimetres. Background dialogue was imprinted onto his memory, to the point that Conan found himself able to recite the entirety of Shonen Tantei's lunchtime debate of whether Kamen Yaiba would ever escape from planet Verusoom. And if anyone stared at him longer than five seconds, shivers would begin to crawl through his spine until he was able to identify exactly who was being so attentive.

And just to be perfectly clear: no, he _definitely _did not need to remember how many times Mouri had washed his underwear this month.

It was frustrating to say the least, especially when huge crowds of people unknowingly bombarded his brain with chatter of how terrible the traffic was that morning, the newest Harajuku sales, the latest rise of taxes, how Shizuka's boyfriend had dumped her and _oh my god_- is that a dead body? Then the screams would start and Conan would be forced to weave between legs and frantically-waving arms to arrive at the scene of murder.

It were times like these that sunk their claws into him: the still bodies with cold purple-blue lips, lying in a mockery of peaceful slumber in their own blood. Even afterwards when the murderer had long been cuffed and taken into custody, the bloody-red images would remain streaked behind his eyelids. In the night, they chased after him, morphing into Ran, her parents, his parents, Haibara, Hakase, the children, Division One and the never-ending list continued- their bodies piled onto each other carelessly, their blank eyes staring at him, always asking_ why didn't you ever call me Shinichi, you said you'd protect me, why didn't you save us- Conan, why why why_. And struggling to move with sluggish limbs, it would always come- the half-croak of _Tantei..kun, _and he'd turn to see Kid's mangled body stretching for him, peppered with bloody bullet holes and surrounded by black crows.

Obviously the Sandman had something against him.

But what made it worse was how _quiet_ their shared apartment was when Kid wasn't home.

At least in the Detective agency, lying on the lumpy futon on the floor of Mouri's bedroom, Conan could reassure himself with Mouri's obnoxious snores- _ it's okay- he's alive, _and whenever the night passed, Ran would be there, humming as she cooked breakfast, meaning that_ you can breathe. No blood. She's alright. Breathing. Alive._

But now, only the ticking of the clock greeted his harsh breathing when he awoke in tussled bed sheets and cold sweat. The bed was too big, too cold, too _empty—_ and Conan would stumble out of bed, into the adjoining bathroom, and douse himself in the shower until the tremors subsided. He would then return to bed, but sleep only came together with white, which bundled him up and encased him with warm limbs and the sounds of soft breathing.

Only then was his sleep dreamless.

-.-.-.-.-

When morning came, Kid was dressed casually for work- _long-sleeved blue shirt and black jeans worn last Tuesday-_, his monocle glinting as he snatched bread from the toaster just as they popped out, flipped eggs and whistled at the same time. Conan prepared each of their respective drinks: _black coffee with no milk or sugar and cocoa with 4 creams and 9 sugars_- and grimaced because no one sane should put that much sugar in.

Ignoring the fact that Kid was most assuredly insane.

Food was plated and eaten, and drinks were set upon the small tabletop before the living room couch with today's newspaper to the side. Kid had already pulled out the comics section and was busy scribbling moustaches and top hats on the caricatures as he reached for his drink.

Conan couldn't help but peek surreptitiously behind his own cup of black coffee, as an expression of bliss that swept over Kid's face as he sipped his mug of steaming hot cocoa, watching Kid's lips part slightly with his breath. He wanted- no, _needed_- to remember tranquil moments like these, to etch it into his mind deeper than the deaths. So he could beat back how sometimes it ached, how it never seemed to end, and how _tired_ he was of it all-

"Tantei-kun."

"Erk."

Conan violently twitched when he blinked and found Kid's face suddenly inches from his own- _three and a half inches._

"...Yes?"

"You're staring," Kid said and continued to stare blankly back at Conan for a few moments- _the stupid hypocrite-_ before breaking out into a smirk. And suddenly, the space between them felt uncomfortably warm.

"Aah~ I see how it is."

Leaning backwards away from the close proximity, Conan froze. That tone of voice never meant anything good. What was Kid talking abo-

"You're missing a morning kiss!" Kid proclaimed triumphantly, left hand cupping his chin as he nodded in a sagely manner.

What.

Conan decided to repeat out loud for good measure.

"What."

Kid didn't seem put off by Conan's deadpan at all, still nodding with his eyes closed and stupid grin plastered over his face.

"Yes, yes I see it now. Tantei-kun has finally realised how charismatic and wonderful I am, that you can't keep his eyes off me~"

"W-what! No, you idiot- don't make up stupid ideas like that!" To Conan's mortification, he could feel his face turn burning red with embarrassment as Kid continued.

"Sad, lonely and in heartbreak because we didn't get to sleep together and have love-love-time—"

"_What the hell is_ _love-love-time._"

"You realised you couldn't a moment longer away from me! But never fear Tantei-kun, for Kaitou Kid is here!" Conan swallowed nervously as Kid's monocle gleamed and his grin gained a devious edge. As Conan edged backwards as far the couch would allow, Kid likewise leaned forwards and pried his coffee cup away from him.

"W-wait- Kid!"

Kid just ignored him and continued forwards, long arms resting on either side of Conan for balance and trapping him in, smiling face coming closer and closer, and he could feel Kid's breath tickling on his lips and Conan shut his eyes tight—

-And kicked him as hard as he could.

"Grk." Kid made a strangled noise as he keeled over clutching his shin, and ended up squashing Conan underneath his substantial weight- _that has to be more than 75 kilograms, did he gain weight or something?_

"Gerroff 'id."

There was a significant pause- _five seconds too long for normal_- where Kid was most probably thinking of refusal, and where Conan was most probably going to hit him if he didn't get off soon.

Kid got off and moved to the side of Conan.

"Tantei-kun, you didn't need to kick me so hard." Kid pouted- god forbid Nakamori-keibu ever finding out Kid _pouted-_ and nursed his injury like it was causing him a significant amount of pain. Which Conan hoped it did.

'I wouldn't need to kick you at all, if you weren't so perverted in the morning.'

Kid's only response was to pout even more, which Conan resolutely ignored and sipped from his reclaimed coffee even as his spine tingled almost pleasantly with Kid's attention.

"Tantei-kun."

This time when Conan turned, Kid was already closing in and suddenly there were soft lips on his that tasted sweet- _sweet with cocoa and nine sugars-_ and sent shivers of heat through him, making his head spin with Kid's insistent suckling, his face tilted upwards with a gentle hand on his chin.

By the time Kid had pulled away smiling, Conan was breathless and had almost dropped his coffee in favour of tangling his hands into the thief's hair.

"I'll be staying home tonight with you, Tantei-kun." And with that, Kid pressed a chaste kiss upon Conan's forehead, collected the plates and left Conan with reddened puffy lips on the couch.

...The utter _tease_ of a _bastard._

Now Conan would be feeling the phantom press of lips and suction for the whole morning- and recess- and lunch. And probably the entire afternoon as well. Kid probably knew it too.

His sensitivity was completely unfair.

Really.

It didn't stop his chest from feeling warm.

* * *

My first story ever after being on this website since 2006, go me. Listened to Bratja from FMA OST on repeat during writing, and the translation is feeeeeels. Anyway, the themes of this fic is probably already written and explored much better in the DC fandom, but it was half-written for more than a year so why not. I might have overdone it with the italics, even though I tried to limit it. Oops. And the angst. Double oops.

Thanks for reading and any thoughts/criticism that you can offer would be much appreciated. ouo


End file.
